


My river runs to thee (The Five Silver Streams Remix)

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Morgana touches Arthur's cheek and thinks, perhaps, the last story she'll tell him will be a tale of the fallen king of Camelot.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	My river runs to thee (The Five Silver Streams Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whirligigged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirligigged/gifts).
  * Inspired by [These brand-new silver streams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257473) by [whirligigged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirligigged/pseuds/whirligigged). 



> I hope you enjoy this remix, whirligigged! :D 
> 
> Title from "The Outlet (162)" by Emily Dickinson.

_i._

Morgana runs up to the edge of the water, hesitates, then splashes through it until it weighs her skirts down. The small stream behind the castle is cool and clear, glinting silver in the early morning light until the sunrise colors it yellow and gold. 

Arthur laughs when he catches up with her and his hands are warm at Morgana's waist. She closes her eyes and forces herself not to look at him, suddenly, fleetingly aware that when she does, she won't recognize him, that the moment when the boyish smile will fade from his face forever is fast approaching.

_ii._

"Hello," she says, her hand against Arthur's cheek. 

He turns into the touch with a sigh. He looks young again, untouched and unwounded, skin painted silver-pale by the moonlight. 

When he opens his eyes he frowns and asks for Merlin, all the anger, all the hate and love she has for Arthur swells inside her. Morgana touches Arthur's cheek again and thinks, perhaps, the last story she'll tell him will be a tale of the fallen king of Camelot. 

"I'll see you again," she says instead and knows she won't stand on the shores of Avalon again until that day.

_iii._

"No." Morgana walks across the room to stand at the window and watch the lighting of the lamps on the street below. "He was mine before he was yours, and you cannot have him first, not in this life or in another."

Behind her Merlin sighs and the sound is low and weary. "Then take it all from me. The memories, the anticipation, the long years of waiting." 

Light pools gold beneath the streetlamps and Morgana thinks of Arthur, boyish and silver-pale, asleep. "No," she says again, and when she turns around to face the darkened parlor, Merlin is gone. 

_iv._

Merlin only seeks her out when the grief becomes too much for him, when he is weighed down with waiting. He holds his pain inside himself, just as he once tried to keep his magic small and sparse, only to find the task an impossible one. 

Morgana holds her grief around her, a flowing cloak of lost time and long years, and though it grows heavy with every passing age, she cannot fold it up and put it away as Merlin does. 

She wears it, and draws it around her shoulders, knowing that time itself will draw Arthur to her. 

_v._

Morgana walks to the edge of water, damp skirts trailing, body flushed with blood-warmth and heart still pounding. 

Behind her, Arthur's breath catches quietly against his mouth in soft gasps, and Morgana imagines that he shivers still. From the water and cool air against his bare skin, from the newness of the desire between them. She reaches a hand out to touch his fingers, to draw him out of the old world into the new. 

"You'll remember him soon. You'll remember everything, and you'll remember this, too. He'll tell you how he waited, but not how he wanted to forget."


End file.
